


David Villa hates change

by amadridlover



Category: Football RPF
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 05:03:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4291728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amadridlover/pseuds/amadridlover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David's life is about to change. (He hates change.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	David Villa hates change

**Author's Note:**

> David is going to Australia to play in the A-League for up to ten games to keep up his fitness until the MLS season starts. He is on loan to Melbourne City.

David Villa is not a man who can say he likes new beginnings. In fact, he is positive that just the thought of change will break him into a sweat. David Villa is a man full of such observations. He likes certainties, and when he finds them, he never fails to acknowledge them, as somehow, saying something aloud makes it cement itself into a truth. That is why, when David Villa was asked about his future in a recent interview, he was adamant that he couldn’t imagine himself leaving Atlético Madrid, after all, leaving Barcelona was hard enough, the _change_ (wipes his clammy hands on his pants) of cities upsetting his routine like nothing else. No, David Villa tells the reporter, he is here for good. He is here to stay, and he is here to win.

_\--_

_Two days, three coffees, one headache, two toilet breaks later…_

 

 _What?!_ David Villa wants to scream, wants to yell, wants to chain himself to the door and refuse, _refuse_ to listen to the words coming out of his agent’s mouth. He fans himself desperately with the empty coffee tray, trying to achieve some resemblance of his more-composed normal self. Here he is, in a conference room with Enrique Cerezo, the _presidente_ at Atlético, his agent and another club representative and they are talking about a (gulp) – _transfer._ David Villa doesn’t think his day can get any worse as he nearly combusts from the headache now expanding in his brain, following three hours of non-stop negotiations. He can’t believe he is leaving Madrid, leaving Spain for God’s sake! But perhaps what really breaks his heart is the small, minute detail of leaving a Champion’s League team like Atlético to play for a team whose name itself states that David’s beloved football is nothing more than soccer. _SOCK_ -ER, David tries out, rolling his ‘r’ slightly, familiarising himself with the word. To make it worse, he would be taking a ten-week pit-stop in another country—Australia—even less familiar with football than America. It feels like an affront, and David’s heart throbs painfully at the very sudden and looming reality of change in his life.

 

\--

 

 _“Joder, David,”_ Iker breathes from the other end of the line, and David feels his gloom really and truly sink in. “Australia? Do they even play football?”

 

It’s not a thought that hasn’t already crossed his mind, of course, it was easily pushed aside after David remembered his goal against the nation in the World Cup. Talking to Iker hasn’t cheered him up as he had hoped it would, and David is beginning to think that this is the end of all good things in his life, God punishing him with not one, but two teams that are the furthest thing possible from Atlético and a _complete_ world away from Barcelona.

 

What has he done to deserve this, he asks his bedroom ceiling, receiving no reply.

 

“Well,” Iker’s voice speaks out again, bringing David’s attention back to the phone call, “at least it will give you a chance to improve your English,” and David rolls his eyes at his former captain, forgetting the other man can’t see him.

 

“You’re one to talk,” he quips back, and the two of them laugh, Iker’s terrible English having been the popular topic of many a La Roja joke.

 

David hangs up with an _adios hombre,_ grinning devilishly at Iker’s attempted _good-bai,_ hoping upon hope that he would at least be able to speak English better than Iker at the end of the two-year contract.

 

\--

 

Thongs, Ugg-boots and sweatpants are the first things that David notices upon his arrival at Melbourne airport, well, that _and_ the security escort. He is taken through a confusing maze that apparently leads to the back exit, and David is surprised. _There is a crowd waiting for me?_

 

His driver looks at him politely, but has a casual air about him, something that is quite foreign to David.

 

“Hol—hello,” David manages to get out, blushing furiously as the word feels heavy on his tongue. It was going to be a long ten weeks…

 

“G’day, how’s it going mate?” the man grins at him, helping him with his door. David sits uncomfortably in the back seat, waiting for the driver to put his bags in the boot of the car. He knows it’s only been a day but he already misses Patricia and wishes he hadn’t told her to let him get the house settled before she traversed across the world with their daughters.

 

“So, you’re one of those soccer players, huh?” the driver asks him as he climbs gracefully into his seat, turning back to look at David. David blinks. The man spoke strangely, and David couldn’t quite work out what he was saying. He figured it was the accent, and he is instantly reminded of grade three English class, with Senora Martinez screaming at them “I play, you play, he/she/it plays”. David wishes he had paid more attention.

 

The other man only laughs.

 

“Welcome to Australia mate!”

 

And David Villa is left quiet to honestly wonder what on earth the driver could have been talking about when he said “Ost-RAH-ya”.

 

 


End file.
